{/Author's Note: yet another shameless story... this one Jak and Dax buddy-bonding. Childhood to (somewhat) today. Gotta love this goofy pair. Rated for very mild language (just to be sure). Typical disclaimers apply./}
~=~Our Journey~=~
////Look out, new world, here we come...////
////Brave, intrepid and then some.////
////Pioneers of maximum////
////Audacity whose resumes////
////Show that we are just the team////
////To live where others merely dream,////
////Building up a head of steam////
////On the trail we blaze.////
Samos had mostly gotten used to Sandover Village. Taking care of the boy there in the hut was no big task... Jak was quiet, well-behaved, and easy to deal with. The little girl he now took care of was more of a handful, as she showed every bit of the spunk of her dear mother... lost, sadly, in childbirth.
He enjoyed the peace and quiet. No one bothered him, and he could work on studying eco in peace.
A quiet trot of footsteps did catch his attention, as well as the attention of the boy sitting on the floor of a hut, finishing up a second slingshot. Why he had made two was beyond Samos' understanding, but it kept him entertained.
Soon, the footsteps stopped. A pair of wide, curious blue eyes peeked around and into the room, a brush of fiery red hair falling into them. Samos had seen the boy around town, although his name escaped him at the moment. Little troublemaker... that's what most everyone called him. His parents had died when he couldn't have been older than one... killed by lurkers. Everyone around town treated him as their own, even though he tended to drive everyone out of their minds with his wreckless curiosity.
But he was about Jak's age. Samos thought about this for a moment as he watched the pair of eyes disappear upon being spotted. He could use a friend, most certainly. It would not only perhaps bring out a bit more of a vocal side to the child, but also allow him to get out more and exercise.
So Samos walked to the door and looked outside, just in time to catch a glimpse of the boy as he tried to escape being caught in his snooping by running down the ramp. He failed and tripped, falling face-first into the grass.
It didn't deter him, however. And as he stood, brushing himself off, Samos could have laughed at the sight he presented.
Getting a good look at the child certainly proved interesting. He was shorter and much thinner than Jak, with spiked red hair that fell into his face in some places and wide, always curious deep blue eyes. Holding true to most red-heads, he was fair skinned, and his round cheeks were marked with a sunburn and a spackling of freckles. Most amusing to Samos was the rather severe overbite the child had, giving him an almost squabbit*-like appearance, with buck teeth he was certain the boy probably could've popped bottles open with.
This child, though, showed no real care for the amused perusal the old man made. He just put his hands on his hips, and quipped in a light, nasal voice, " Whatcha lookin' at?"
"You, apparently," Samos retorted. "Young man, might I ask what you were doing up at my hut?"
To this, the boy turned suddenly awkward and sheepish, digging his toes into the sand. "...I heard around town that there's another kid up there, 'sides Keira. Issat true?"
Samos chuckled. "Yes, it is. Come on up, I'll introduce you. He could use some company, and you two are about the same age."
The boy grinned and followed Samos without question, although he hesitated when he met the sharp blue eyes of the boy that sat in the floor of the hut. Despite his young age, Jak was fairly tall, although almost just as lanky as the boy in front of him. He still didn't speak. Instead, he looked the other boy over as if he was going to jump at him. Finally, after thoroughly scaring the other child out of his wits, he stood... and held out one of the two slingshots he had made. On his face was a broad smile, and though he didn't speak, the red-head seemed to understand the question perfectly.
"I'm Daxter," he stated simply, carefully taking the slingshot as if he couldn't believe it was being handed to him. He looked over the thing for a minute, then turned his eyes back to Jak. "What's your name?"
When Jak didn't speak, Samos did for him. "His name is Jak. He doesn't speak, I'm afraid, but I can't understand why. He's no problems with his throat... I checked. Everything is in order. He's just... quiet."
Daxter blinked, then shrugged slightly, grinning a goofy grin as he held out his hand to Jak. "Eh, that doesn't matter at all! Nice t'meet ya, buddy."
Without even bothering to notice any of the oddities of the boy before him, Jak cheerfully shook Daxter's hand. Samos was pleased at the time...
But then, he didn't know what sort of trials those two becoming friends would bring.
*****
Daxter woke with a start, eyes blurry. His fur was wet under his eyes. Had he been crying in his sleep? Shifting in a position that would have been uncomfortable when he was far less fuzzy, he pressed tighter against the warm spot he had. Being an ottsel wasn't *really* so bad, when your best friend didn't care either way.
Then again, camping out in the Boggy Swamp wasn't his idea of a walk in the park anyway.
It was raining hard, and while he had been mad at Jak initially for the fiasco on Misty Island - a fiasco that had gotten Daxter flung into a pit of dark eco and turned into a talking Lurker treat, he just couldn't bring himself to be mad at him now.
Jak hadn't brought a tent or blankets, and so had to make due with caves that provided little protection from the bitter winds. He had put his back to the entrance, however, and insisted with little pushes from his fingertips that Daxter curl up by his belly to sleep.
The little ottsel felt Jak's body shake with every burst of wind, and every time Jak trembled, he felt worse and worse. Finally, he uncurled his small form, reaching up to shake Jak's arm gently. "Hey, Jak... let's move deeper inta the cave. You'll catch yer death out here."
Jak opened his eyes slightly, looking at Daxter for a moment before he shook his head, moving his arm to both cover and pin the ottsel. Daxter squirmed, and after a few moments of struggling, managed to free himself. He climbed up Jak's tunic and stretched his small, furry form over one of his friend's arms. "If you're gonna be cold, I'm gonna be cold too," he murmured lightly, shivering as the wind whipped through his fur. "If you freeze, I freeze."
Daxter felt Jak shift before he felt the strong hand close around his middle, lifting him up to eye-level with the silent elf. Jak was giving him a rather frustrated look. 'What do you think you're doing?' those sharp eyes questioned.
"I'm tryin' t'keep you warm," Daxter murmured lightly, prying at Jak's fingers. This would have been much easier if he were still an elf, and that strong grip was locked on his wrist as opposed to around his entire midsection. "How're you s'posed ta get me changed back if you're a Jaksicle out here in the Boggy Swamp?
Jak just rolled his eyes, putting Daxter right back by his belly again. Daxter knew that look anywhere. 'I'm fine. I'd rather you be okay. It's my fault you're like this now, so I'm going to protect you.'
Sighing wearily, Daxter curled up again, burying his nose against his arms. His fur was warm, and it seemed the only warm spot on *Jak* was this place by his stomach. He frowned inwardly. He wanted Jak to help him return to normal, but not if it meant the risk of losing his best friend.
Closing his eyes with a sight, Daxter fought to fall asleep, pressing tightly against Jak's stomach as if it would warm the elf up just a little bit more. They would find the end of this... they would.
*****
A sneeze caused Daxter's whole body to puff up with the force of it, his fur standing out every which way. He was matted and dirty from almost two years of walking the dingy streets of this strange mechanical city. The metal against the pads of his paws was harsh and cold, every inch of his sore body reminding him that with every passing day, his chances of rescuing Jak (wherever he was) grew more and more slim.
His little heart raced. Jak had done everything in his power to change him back to normal, and even after Daxter had lost his chance, he had stuck by his friend. But upon reaching the end of the rift, that strange man in armor (Daxter had determined from racing posters around town that the man was named Erol, and overheard conversations told him that he was the commander of the guard force that circulated throughout the city) had taken Jak, and what had he done in the face of the danger?
He had run! He almost couldn't believe he had. If he hadn't run, Jak might've had the incentive to run as well.
He had gotten Jak into this mess... now he had to get him out of it.
At the moment, he perched silently at the edge of an alley, waiting a pair of Krimzon Guards. One had set down his entry pass for the KG fortress, and with each little bit of conversation, they moved further and further from where it lay.
Daxter shifted his weight back and forth between his back feet, crouched as low to the ground as he could, his entire form pulled back to prepare to lunge. Speeding zoomers, the feet of civilians, and the hands of the hungry homeless were the greatest threats he would face... but he had to get that pass!
The guards finally walked away, and Daxter sprung, zipping around feet and hands, rolling under zoomers and leaping over cracks. With one final dive, he had the security pass held in his sharp little teeth, and was making his way through alleys and to the Guard Fortress.
/Don't worry, Jak!/ he thought, panting past the pass. /I'll save ya yet!/
*****
Daxter's ears twitched as he listened to the conversation above him only vaguely. He recognized one voice as the man who had taken Jak away two years ago, and the other as the one that boomed from the notice boxes all over Haven City. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but someone else was with them. He could hear the pained groans from whoever it was.
Finally, Erol and the baron retreated from the room, and Daxter hopped on an elevator. He didn't really *want* to see the person above him, but if they were still alive, they might know where he could find Jak!
"Ding, ding!" he cried cheerfully. "Third floor... Body chains, roach food, torture devices!" He hopped off the elevator and landed on both feet on the chest of who he thought would be a stranger. "Hey buddy... you seen any heroes around here?" He looked down. ...He knew that face. Jak. It was Jak. It was Jak, with slicked back hair and a goatee. Jak, who looked so much older, and still so young. Jak. His best friend Jak. A pained expression twisted the usually peaceful face, and his skin was pale and clammy. Jak. This just didn't seem like Jak anymore. But Daxter was not deterred, and he kept a game face, determined to show his friend the same rough-and-tumble, goofy ottsel he had known two years ago, and he cried, " *Whoa*! What'd they do to you?!"
Jak's eyes flickered open, but only briefly. Did he even register Daxter's face? Instantly, the ottsel started to panic, and he shifted uncertainly on large paws, crouching. "Jak, it's me... Daxter!" Those slate blue eyes opened to him again, then fell closed once more, as if he was drifting in and out of consciousness as Daxter spoke. Maybe it was frustration... perhaps even extreme concern. But he didn't want to see Jak like this. And he wouldn't let Jak see him get down. "That's a fine hello! I've been crawlin' around in this place," and he started to pace back and forth from Jak's chest to his abdomen and back again, "risking my *tail* -" here he paused to grab hold of the tip of his tail, "literally, to save you! I've been lookin' for you for two years!" He dropped to a crouch on Jak's chest again, reaching foreward to gently shake his old friend's shoulders. "Say something! Just.this.once!"
It was a strange feeling... the first time Jak ever opened his mouth to speak to his friend was right at that moment, but the only thing in Daxter's mind was the thought to find some way to shut him up! His eyes had shot open, and eerily empty depths of steel-backed blue stared viciously at him. "I'm gonna *kill* Praxis!!"
Instantly, Daxter clapped his hand over Jak's mouth, shushing him as quickly as he could. "Shhhh!! Right now, we gotta get you outta here." Quietly, he hopped down from Jak's chest, scurrying down his arm to examine one of the clasps that held him down. He didn't notice when Jak started to shift restlessly on the table, or when the other began drawing in ragged, violent breaths, growls hissing past his lips. " Just let me figure out how to open the security locks for your chair so..."
It all happened so quickly that Daxter couldn't tell which way was up for a moment. Jak let out a roar of pain and hate, and in an instant, energy rippled over his pale skin. From the feel of it dancing over his own fur, Daxter knew all too well what it was. Dark eco. Jak became even paler, his hair standing up slightly, onyx horns clearly visible as deadly claws grew from his fingertips. There was no blue in those empty pits of eyes... just deep, endless, hateful, seething black. Daxter, who had lept from his friend's arm in terror at the sudden scream, now stood with his back to the grating, shaking all over as he watched the advance of this hideous thing. "Or aaah... you could do it..." Trembling, he tried to back up further, his tail curling around his legs. "Jak?" This was not Jak. "Easy now." It couldn't be Jak. "Easy buddy." There was no emotion in those eyes, and the expression on this creature's face was far from the placid, gentle one he recognized from Jak. It was hateful. It wanted blood. " It's... it's your old pal Daxter remember?"
The thing did not respond at first, and raised its claws with a roar to attack, when something seemed to click. The eyes flickered, the form returning to 'normal' as Jak's quiet, unused voice whispered, "Daxter?"
Daxter was still shaking all over as he watched Jak weakly brace himself against the table where those horrible men had been torturing him. He swallowed, forcing himself to sound jovial, even though he was utterly terrified. "*What* the *heck* was that?! Geez! Remind me not to piss *you* off!" He tried to brush off his fear and shaking, walking past Jak at the pace of a sort of waddle. "Come on, tall, dark, and gruesome. We're outta here." With those words, he jumped to Jak's shoulder. The feeling of his friend's sturdy frame beneath his paws was welcomed... he had missed Jak a lot. "I, uh... brought you some new threads. Put 'em on."
*****
Strong fingers lightly moved across Daxter's fur as the ottsel started to return to consciousness. He let out a soft noise that almost sounded like a purr as those fingers rubbed at his ears, and gave a protesting squeak when the hands left him.
He felt something warm next to his mouth and tried to turn away, but he heard Jak's voice insist, "Come on, Dax... you've gotta eat something... come on... it's just yakkow milk... I added some brandy to it for you..."
His stomach turned at the thought of taking anything, but he finally agreed, allowing the part of him that was very much this animal form do the thinking as he took the milk from the dropper that had been pressed against his lips.
Once the milk was gone and the dropper removed, Daxter curled up again, almost purring as Jak's hand returned to petting his back. He knew how worried his friend was, but he couldn't bring himself to show a lot of responsiveness.
"I'm sorry, Dax. I can't even begin to say how sorry I am. I should've been paying attention to that Metal Head. I didn't even know it would go after you like that."
Daxter gave a short noise, lifting his head to look up at Jak groggily. Jak smiled weakly, scratching behind Daxter's ears. Normally, the ottsel would've complained about the attention, but his head hurt and he didn't have the strength to. So, he just closed his eyes, tilting his ears foreward as he let Jak scratch his ears lightly. He normally would've yelled at the elf for putting them in danger like that, but hey, attention was attention.
After a few moments, as he was starting to doze off, he realized that the hand scratching his ears had stopped. Opening one eye to see what the problem was, he found Jak slouched in the chair he had decided to sit in, sleeping peacefully.
Daxter frowned, then slowly uncurled from where he lay, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. Carefully, so as not to agitate his injuries, he crawled foreward and into Jak's lap, curling up there instead. Warmer, more comfortable, and much more safe, in his opinion.
He felt Jak shift, one hand laying on his back as he curled up. He would never have dreamed of doing this two years ago, but now, he felt much more comfortable just curling up wherever he damn well pleased, even if that was in his best friend's lap. He was, after all, an ottsel now.
A little smile crept onto his face as he drifted into a peaceful sleep, kneading his tiny claws into Jak's pant leg. He felt safe there. He always had with Jak, ever since that day that the quiet little boy with the steel-blue eyes handed him a slingshot and offered him a friend. Ever sine Jak had taken him on that journey to turn him back into an elf. Ever since the relief he felt seeing Jak alive.
They had been together this whole time. They weren't going to be torn apart now. They were the wild pair, the two that had driven every resident of Sandover Village nearly to bedlam, the Baron's worst nightmare. Daxter was happy staying an ottsel now, if it meant he could stick close to Jak, always be there to remind him who he was.
And that was the way things were.
////Changing legend into fact,////
////We shall ride into history.////
////Turning myth into truth,////
////We shall surely gaze on the sweet unfolding////
////Of an antique mystery.////
////All will be revealed,////
////On the trail we blaze.////
~=~Our Journey~=~
////Look out, new world, here we come...////
////Brave, intrepid and then some.////
////Pioneers of maximum////
////Audacity whose resumes////
////Show that we are just the team////
////To live where others merely dream,////
////Building up a head of steam////
////On the trail we blaze.////
Samos had mostly gotten used to Sandover Village. Taking care of the boy there in the hut was no big task... Jak was quiet, well-behaved, and easy to deal with. The little girl he now took care of was more of a handful, as she showed every bit of the spunk of her dear mother... lost, sadly, in childbirth.
He enjoyed the peace and quiet. No one bothered him, and he could work on studying eco in peace.
A quiet trot of footsteps did catch his attention, as well as the attention of the boy sitting on the floor of a hut, finishing up a second slingshot. Why he had made two was beyond Samos' understanding, but it kept him entertained.
Soon, the footsteps stopped. A pair of wide, curious blue eyes peeked around and into the room, a brush of fiery red hair falling into them. Samos had seen the boy around town, although his name escaped him at the moment. Little troublemaker... that's what most everyone called him. His parents had died when he couldn't have been older than one... killed by lurkers. Everyone around town treated him as their own, even though he tended to drive everyone out of their minds with his wreckless curiosity.
But he was about Jak's age. Samos thought about this for a moment as he watched the pair of eyes disappear upon being spotted. He could use a friend, most certainly. It would not only perhaps bring out a bit more of a vocal side to the child, but also allow him to get out more and exercise.
So Samos walked to the door and looked outside, just in time to catch a glimpse of the boy as he tried to escape being caught in his snooping by running down the ramp. He failed and tripped, falling face-first into the grass.
It didn't deter him, however. And as he stood, brushing himself off, Samos could have laughed at the sight he presented.
Getting a good look at the child certainly proved interesting. He was shorter and much thinner than Jak, with spiked red hair that fell into his face in some places and wide, always curious deep blue eyes. Holding true to most red-heads, he was fair skinned, and his round cheeks were marked with a sunburn and a spackling of freckles. Most amusing to Samos was the rather severe overbite the child had, giving him an almost squabbit*-like appearance, with buck teeth he was certain the boy probably could've popped bottles open with.
This child, though, showed no real care for the amused perusal the old man made. He just put his hands on his hips, and quipped in a light, nasal voice, " Whatcha lookin' at?"
"You, apparently," Samos retorted. "Young man, might I ask what you were doing up at my hut?"
To this, the boy turned suddenly awkward and sheepish, digging his toes into the sand. "...I heard around town that there's another kid up there, 'sides Keira. Issat true?"
Samos chuckled. "Yes, it is. Come on up, I'll introduce you. He could use some company, and you two are about the same age."
The boy grinned and followed Samos without question, although he hesitated when he met the sharp blue eyes of the boy that sat in the floor of the hut. Despite his young age, Jak was fairly tall, although almost just as lanky as the boy in front of him. He still didn't speak. Instead, he looked the other boy over as if he was going to jump at him. Finally, after thoroughly scaring the other child out of his wits, he stood... and held out one of the two slingshots he had made. On his face was a broad smile, and though he didn't speak, the red-head seemed to understand the question perfectly.
"I'm Daxter," he stated simply, carefully taking the slingshot as if he couldn't believe it was being handed to him. He looked over the thing for a minute, then turned his eyes back to Jak. "What's your name?"
When Jak didn't speak, Samos did for him. "His name is Jak. He doesn't speak, I'm afraid, but I can't understand why. He's no problems with his throat... I checked. Everything is in order. He's just... quiet."
Daxter blinked, then shrugged slightly, grinning a goofy grin as he held out his hand to Jak. "Eh, that doesn't matter at all! Nice t'meet ya, buddy."
Without even bothering to notice any of the oddities of the boy before him, Jak cheerfully shook Daxter's hand. Samos was pleased at the time...
But then, he didn't know what sort of trials those two becoming friends would bring.
*****
Daxter woke with a start, eyes blurry. His fur was wet under his eyes. Had he been crying in his sleep? Shifting in a position that would have been uncomfortable when he was far less fuzzy, he pressed tighter against the warm spot he had. Being an ottsel wasn't *really* so bad, when your best friend didn't care either way.
Then again, camping out in the Boggy Swamp wasn't his idea of a walk in the park anyway.
It was raining hard, and while he had been mad at Jak initially for the fiasco on Misty Island - a fiasco that had gotten Daxter flung into a pit of dark eco and turned into a talking Lurker treat, he just couldn't bring himself to be mad at him now.
Jak hadn't brought a tent or blankets, and so had to make due with caves that provided little protection from the bitter winds. He had put his back to the entrance, however, and insisted with little pushes from his fingertips that Daxter curl up by his belly to sleep.
The little ottsel felt Jak's body shake with every burst of wind, and every time Jak trembled, he felt worse and worse. Finally, he uncurled his small form, reaching up to shake Jak's arm gently. "Hey, Jak... let's move deeper inta the cave. You'll catch yer death out here."
Jak opened his eyes slightly, looking at Daxter for a moment before he shook his head, moving his arm to both cover and pin the ottsel. Daxter squirmed, and after a few moments of struggling, managed to free himself. He climbed up Jak's tunic and stretched his small, furry form over one of his friend's arms. "If you're gonna be cold, I'm gonna be cold too," he murmured lightly, shivering as the wind whipped through his fur. "If you freeze, I freeze."
Daxter felt Jak shift before he felt the strong hand close around his middle, lifting him up to eye-level with the silent elf. Jak was giving him a rather frustrated look. 'What do you think you're doing?' those sharp eyes questioned.
"I'm tryin' t'keep you warm," Daxter murmured lightly, prying at Jak's fingers. This would have been much easier if he were still an elf, and that strong grip was locked on his wrist as opposed to around his entire midsection. "How're you s'posed ta get me changed back if you're a Jaksicle out here in the Boggy Swamp?
Jak just rolled his eyes, putting Daxter right back by his belly again. Daxter knew that look anywhere. 'I'm fine. I'd rather you be okay. It's my fault you're like this now, so I'm going to protect you.'
Sighing wearily, Daxter curled up again, burying his nose against his arms. His fur was warm, and it seemed the only warm spot on *Jak* was this place by his stomach. He frowned inwardly. He wanted Jak to help him return to normal, but not if it meant the risk of losing his best friend.
Closing his eyes with a sight, Daxter fought to fall asleep, pressing tightly against Jak's stomach as if it would warm the elf up just a little bit more. They would find the end of this... they would.
*****
A sneeze caused Daxter's whole body to puff up with the force of it, his fur standing out every which way. He was matted and dirty from almost two years of walking the dingy streets of this strange mechanical city. The metal against the pads of his paws was harsh and cold, every inch of his sore body reminding him that with every passing day, his chances of rescuing Jak (wherever he was) grew more and more slim.
His little heart raced. Jak had done everything in his power to change him back to normal, and even after Daxter had lost his chance, he had stuck by his friend. But upon reaching the end of the rift, that strange man in armor (Daxter had determined from racing posters around town that the man was named Erol, and overheard conversations told him that he was the commander of the guard force that circulated throughout the city) had taken Jak, and what had he done in the face of the danger?
He had run! He almost couldn't believe he had. If he hadn't run, Jak might've had the incentive to run as well.
He had gotten Jak into this mess... now he had to get him out of it.
At the moment, he perched silently at the edge of an alley, waiting a pair of Krimzon Guards. One had set down his entry pass for the KG fortress, and with each little bit of conversation, they moved further and further from where it lay.
Daxter shifted his weight back and forth between his back feet, crouched as low to the ground as he could, his entire form pulled back to prepare to lunge. Speeding zoomers, the feet of civilians, and the hands of the hungry homeless were the greatest threats he would face... but he had to get that pass!
The guards finally walked away, and Daxter sprung, zipping around feet and hands, rolling under zoomers and leaping over cracks. With one final dive, he had the security pass held in his sharp little teeth, and was making his way through alleys and to the Guard Fortress.
/Don't worry, Jak!/ he thought, panting past the pass. /I'll save ya yet!/
*****
Daxter's ears twitched as he listened to the conversation above him only vaguely. He recognized one voice as the man who had taken Jak away two years ago, and the other as the one that boomed from the notice boxes all over Haven City. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but someone else was with them. He could hear the pained groans from whoever it was.
Finally, Erol and the baron retreated from the room, and Daxter hopped on an elevator. He didn't really *want* to see the person above him, but if they were still alive, they might know where he could find Jak!
"Ding, ding!" he cried cheerfully. "Third floor... Body chains, roach food, torture devices!" He hopped off the elevator and landed on both feet on the chest of who he thought would be a stranger. "Hey buddy... you seen any heroes around here?" He looked down. ...He knew that face. Jak. It was Jak. It was Jak, with slicked back hair and a goatee. Jak, who looked so much older, and still so young. Jak. His best friend Jak. A pained expression twisted the usually peaceful face, and his skin was pale and clammy. Jak. This just didn't seem like Jak anymore. But Daxter was not deterred, and he kept a game face, determined to show his friend the same rough-and-tumble, goofy ottsel he had known two years ago, and he cried, " *Whoa*! What'd they do to you?!"
Jak's eyes flickered open, but only briefly. Did he even register Daxter's face? Instantly, the ottsel started to panic, and he shifted uncertainly on large paws, crouching. "Jak, it's me... Daxter!" Those slate blue eyes opened to him again, then fell closed once more, as if he was drifting in and out of consciousness as Daxter spoke. Maybe it was frustration... perhaps even extreme concern. But he didn't want to see Jak like this. And he wouldn't let Jak see him get down. "That's a fine hello! I've been crawlin' around in this place," and he started to pace back and forth from Jak's chest to his abdomen and back again, "risking my *tail* -" here he paused to grab hold of the tip of his tail, "literally, to save you! I've been lookin' for you for two years!" He dropped to a crouch on Jak's chest again, reaching foreward to gently shake his old friend's shoulders. "Say something! Just.this.once!"
It was a strange feeling... the first time Jak ever opened his mouth to speak to his friend was right at that moment, but the only thing in Daxter's mind was the thought to find some way to shut him up! His eyes had shot open, and eerily empty depths of steel-backed blue stared viciously at him. "I'm gonna *kill* Praxis!!"
Instantly, Daxter clapped his hand over Jak's mouth, shushing him as quickly as he could. "Shhhh!! Right now, we gotta get you outta here." Quietly, he hopped down from Jak's chest, scurrying down his arm to examine one of the clasps that held him down. He didn't notice when Jak started to shift restlessly on the table, or when the other began drawing in ragged, violent breaths, growls hissing past his lips. " Just let me figure out how to open the security locks for your chair so..."
It all happened so quickly that Daxter couldn't tell which way was up for a moment. Jak let out a roar of pain and hate, and in an instant, energy rippled over his pale skin. From the feel of it dancing over his own fur, Daxter knew all too well what it was. Dark eco. Jak became even paler, his hair standing up slightly, onyx horns clearly visible as deadly claws grew from his fingertips. There was no blue in those empty pits of eyes... just deep, endless, hateful, seething black. Daxter, who had lept from his friend's arm in terror at the sudden scream, now stood with his back to the grating, shaking all over as he watched the advance of this hideous thing. "Or aaah... you could do it..." Trembling, he tried to back up further, his tail curling around his legs. "Jak?" This was not Jak. "Easy now." It couldn't be Jak. "Easy buddy." There was no emotion in those eyes, and the expression on this creature's face was far from the placid, gentle one he recognized from Jak. It was hateful. It wanted blood. " It's... it's your old pal Daxter remember?"
The thing did not respond at first, and raised its claws with a roar to attack, when something seemed to click. The eyes flickered, the form returning to 'normal' as Jak's quiet, unused voice whispered, "Daxter?"
Daxter was still shaking all over as he watched Jak weakly brace himself against the table where those horrible men had been torturing him. He swallowed, forcing himself to sound jovial, even though he was utterly terrified. "*What* the *heck* was that?! Geez! Remind me not to piss *you* off!" He tried to brush off his fear and shaking, walking past Jak at the pace of a sort of waddle. "Come on, tall, dark, and gruesome. We're outta here." With those words, he jumped to Jak's shoulder. The feeling of his friend's sturdy frame beneath his paws was welcomed... he had missed Jak a lot. "I, uh... brought you some new threads. Put 'em on."
*****
Strong fingers lightly moved across Daxter's fur as the ottsel started to return to consciousness. He let out a soft noise that almost sounded like a purr as those fingers rubbed at his ears, and gave a protesting squeak when the hands left him.
He felt something warm next to his mouth and tried to turn away, but he heard Jak's voice insist, "Come on, Dax... you've gotta eat something... come on... it's just yakkow milk... I added some brandy to it for you..."
His stomach turned at the thought of taking anything, but he finally agreed, allowing the part of him that was very much this animal form do the thinking as he took the milk from the dropper that had been pressed against his lips.
Once the milk was gone and the dropper removed, Daxter curled up again, almost purring as Jak's hand returned to petting his back. He knew how worried his friend was, but he couldn't bring himself to show a lot of responsiveness.
"I'm sorry, Dax. I can't even begin to say how sorry I am. I should've been paying attention to that Metal Head. I didn't even know it would go after you like that."
Daxter gave a short noise, lifting his head to look up at Jak groggily. Jak smiled weakly, scratching behind Daxter's ears. Normally, the ottsel would've complained about the attention, but his head hurt and he didn't have the strength to. So, he just closed his eyes, tilting his ears foreward as he let Jak scratch his ears lightly. He normally would've yelled at the elf for putting them in danger like that, but hey, attention was attention.
After a few moments, as he was starting to doze off, he realized that the hand scratching his ears had stopped. Opening one eye to see what the problem was, he found Jak slouched in the chair he had decided to sit in, sleeping peacefully.
Daxter frowned, then slowly uncurled from where he lay, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. Carefully, so as not to agitate his injuries, he crawled foreward and into Jak's lap, curling up there instead. Warmer, more comfortable, and much more safe, in his opinion.
He felt Jak shift, one hand laying on his back as he curled up. He would never have dreamed of doing this two years ago, but now, he felt much more comfortable just curling up wherever he damn well pleased, even if that was in his best friend's lap. He was, after all, an ottsel now.
A little smile crept onto his face as he drifted into a peaceful sleep, kneading his tiny claws into Jak's pant leg. He felt safe there. He always had with Jak, ever since that day that the quiet little boy with the steel-blue eyes handed him a slingshot and offered him a friend. Ever sine Jak had taken him on that journey to turn him back into an elf. Ever since the relief he felt seeing Jak alive.
They had been together this whole time. They weren't going to be torn apart now. They were the wild pair, the two that had driven every resident of Sandover Village nearly to bedlam, the Baron's worst nightmare. Daxter was happy staying an ottsel now, if it meant he could stick close to Jak, always be there to remind him who he was.
And that was the way things were.
////Changing legend into fact,////
////We shall ride into history.////
////Turning myth into truth,////
////We shall surely gaze on the sweet unfolding////
////Of an antique mystery.////
////All will be revealed,////
////On the trail we blaze.////